finding her feet – faute de mieux

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There once was a dumb nympho named Venus
who loved any man with a big penus.
She begged Jack to fuck her one day.
He said, “Don’t you know that I’m gay?”
She said, “It’s fine, then I’ll take it in my anus.”

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“Among the girls I was acquainted with in college, specifically, those girls who never had anything substantial to talk about, were, certainly, very delicious to talk to because their conversations, though pointless, were laced with just the right amounts of flirtation. Well, I was of the tendency to pull off into slightly intellectual byroads on the topics, only to be able to have a dialogue, but the conversations soon became inedible everytime. I had several outings with them on occassions like the club treats and birthday parties, yet I lived the first two years of college in complete ignorance of the life and habits of such girls. And, I was far from suspecting anything like encountering someone like Miss Lemmons.

Although, as a rule, I didn’t find these dimwitted girls interesting or attractive, with a false sense of pride I accepted the proposal that came forth from one such classmate, a young lady named Miss Lemmons, to me, by the end of the second year, of me being her boyfriend.
In the course of a six-month long relationship, when Miss Lemmons committed half-truths and concealed facts as she spoke, when we met at her apartment, at mine, at fancy restaurants and ice-cream parlours, at friends’ parties, or in the classroom, I thoroughly believed her on account of my disillusioned view of the human kind. With such delicate precision she trickled the terms of endearment into her well-structured dialogues about how happy we were and how we could be happier if only I changed a few things about myself, that I hardly noticed my words weren’t being paid the slightest attention to. Her strategies to keep me in the dark were simple and efficient.
Anyway, one summer afternoon, the minutest suspicion germed in my head, when from my balcony I saw the way she moved in the presence of one Mr Byseps. After that day, more than once I had seen something similar in her behaviour, especially when she had no idea I was watching her. By repeated observation I had inferred that my presence hardly mattered for her to move in a certain inappropriate way in the presence of other men. I’m careful not to call it vulgar; it was just inappropriate in a way that it was unacceptable to me. She was honest and dishonest at the same time.
We went on several dinner dates as this happened. I should say that she had a very healthy appetite – for several were the days when she went on dinner parties with other men, after I had dropped her off at her apartment. A healthy appetite; she is untiring; she is insatiable. Maybe, I was a bit scared. She called them her ‘good friends’ and talked about them in the same light. As time passed, I discovered that she regularly wrote to one Mr. Hansumm and longed for him to write back. Though it was a known fact to all on campus that he was already engaged, she was too deluded with the idea of ‘the whole male population of the campus lusting after her’ to accept that he wasn’t fancying her. Around the same time she became clearly obsessed with one attractive Mr. Quinn as was evident from the low-intelligence conversations I forced myself to have with her. She longed to see him everyday and wished for him to make the first move towards expression of an unspoken mutual affection between them that was solely her own mind’s fabrication. This delusion was so strong that it completely made her disbelieve another commonly known fact on campus that Mr. Quinn was a homosexual. She relished the idea of yearning for one, waiting for another and being with the third- all simultaneously.
Finally, one auspicious Valentine’s Day morning, I withdrew from the clutches of this young lady and I was left with a sense of displeasure- the kind that people who have no moral scruples evoke in me.
Sometimes I can’t help wondering if she was the true lover; the one who was above all scruples; maybe the one who had the divine capacity to love us all equally and at the same time. Or, maybe she was just a nymphomaniac.

However, now I can say that I have acquired a kind of an authority, though not on any nymphomaniac, but on the subject of nymphomania. I am also aware of the fact that much needs to be learnt about the disorder though I do not wish to.”